Love Is Eternal
by BriannaAllAround
Summary: Lockwood and Co. have been asked to take on an intriguing case on the wealthy side of things. But things are not as they seem. Once thought of only as a case where you find the source and are done with it, turns out to be something completely different. Will Lockwood and Co. be able to find out the truth? Or will they fail.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first fanfic I've written. Yay! I hope you guys like it and that it makes you feel like these are the actual characters. Now Lockwood and Co. belongs to Jonathan Stroud, but the OC's are mine. Enjoy!**

**Love Is Eternal**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Chapter 1**

"Now then, why don't you tell me what you saw Mrs. Anderson." Lockwood stated as he sat down on the right side of the couch, setting the freshly made tea on the glass coffee table in front of him.

I sat down on the other side and sunk into the fluffy gray cushions. It really was a nice house, with good sized rooms filled with nice furniture and beautiful paintings. I knew once we entered the living room that these people were rich. You could tell by how the lady of the house walked and how she looked at us with her nose up, crinkling it as she measured us from head to toe.

Stupid stuck up rich people.

I set my tea down as well, getting a look at the plush cream carpet below. Swirls of black mixed with red, and deep brown flowers were spotted here and there. I pull out my note pad and pen from my coat pocket and get prepared to write down the details of the phantom.

I watch as Mrs. Anderson sat across from us in a high backed pink chair. I'm sure that in her youth she was quite beautiful, but now with her aged face filled with make-up she looks way older than what she really is. Deep frown lines cress her brow and tight, thin lips seem stuck in a forever frown.

Mrs. Anderson's hair was a dull gold, with gray streaks here and there. Her hair was short, bobbing right at her jaw line. Elegant diamond earrings hung from her ears, with dangling sliver hearts at the end.

But it's her eyes that make you cringe. The pools of stone gray stare straight through you, feeling as if she's starring into the darkest part of soul; making you think she now knows all of your greatest fears.

She brushed her pink skirt down and flattened the collar of her matching suit jacket. Once she was settled, Mrs. Anderson leaned back at measured Lockwood once more.

"Ms."

"I beg your pardon?"

Deep brown and gray collided. "Do you see a ring on this finger?" Mrs. -sorry Ms. - Anderson held out her left hand for inspection, and sure enough, there was no golden band resting on the ring finger.

"I'm sorry _Ms. _Anderson, I didn't notice." Lockwood says while giving a "Lockwood" smile. Ms. Anderson didn't even blink an eye. Instead she gave a slight grunt and rested her hand back down on the arm rest.

"Well then, let's continue shall we," I finally say, repositioning myself so that I could press on my leg to write.

"Quite right, Lucy," Lockwood says as he pulls out his notepad as well. "When you contacted us you said that last night you were attacked by a ghost."

This morning, at the untimely hour of 8:30, Ms. Anderson requested we come to her house at once. She said that a "gray being" attacked her and she wanted it removed immediately. I could hear her raised voice from across the room when George tried to ask her to call back later. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

While Ms. Anderson was yelling some un-lady like things at George, Lockwood came down and took the phone and set up a time for the meeting. He tried at the least. Lockwood battled over a time with Ms. Anderson for a good 15 minutes before they both settled on 10 O'clock sharp.

We decided that Lockwood and I would to go to the home visit and George would go to the library to look up the houses history. Once we got everything settled and ate breakfast, me and Lockwood were off 21 Kings Street.

On the outside it looked like a regular building, with little allies on either side that separating the two story building from the others on the street. But boy does it stand out. With its white-washed bricks, it sticks out like a sore thumb compared to all the other red bricked buildings. The windows on the second floor stick out with window seats enclosed by curved glass, while the other buildings are flat. There were currents you could pull across them too; a dark blue on the right and a solemn pink on the left.

Once we rung the door bell, we had to wait a few minutes more. She opened the door, and after looking at us up and down, walked us to her living room and already had the tea set up.

That brings us back here, with Ms. Anderson looking at us with cold eyes and Lockwood beaming at her.

"Actually," Ms. Anderson started. "it didn't attack me per say. It attacked my kids."

She paused. I look at her and saw that she actual had emotion in her eyes. Fear. After a second, it disappeared and again the coldness took hold. Ms. Anderson shook her head once and opened her mouth to continue.

"It was around midnight; I was up doing some late night reading when I heard it. My daughter was screaming. I ran out of bed to her room, but I couldn't get in." Ms. Anderson paused again. "It was being held closed by something and no matter how hard I pushed, it wouldn't budge."

There was silence as Ms. Anderson went to take a sip of tea. I also take the chance to drink some tea. It was warm and slightly bitter, but still wasn't the worst tea I've had.

I glance over at Lockwood and see the familiar gleam in his eyes. Once Ms. Anderson said that the door was being held closed, I could see Lockwood sit up straighter. He was gaining interest.

I had to say I am too. I wonder what George has found about this houses history.

The clinking of our cups broke the silence and Ms. Anderson sat back in her chair again. I pick up my pen again and hear Lockwood doing the same.

"If my son didn't come when he did…" She trailed off, then gave a slight laugh. "Well, I don't want to think what could've happened. Anyway, my son broke the door open and I saw my daughter in the back corner of the room. My sight has been long gone but I felt the presence of something there."

"Is there any way we can talk to your kids?" I ask. Kids seem to be the only people that can see and hear the ghosts. Seems like everyone has at least the sight, some better than others. But when you get older, you lose your Talents. Hopefully her kids are below the age of 21.

"They went out for a little while. They'll be back in a few. I must say though, neither of my kids has the best Talents. They can't hear them and can only slightly see them." Ms. Anderson looked at us. "My fault there, never really could either."

Well, that's great. Hopefully we'll get something useful from them.

"We're out of tea, I'll go make some more." Ms. Anderson said as she got up. "Want anything else?"

"Some biscuits would be nice." Lockwood said while throwing a polite smile her way. She didn't return it. I watch her walk to the kitchen, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor.

"Type Two, probably a Specter, but maybe a Poltergeist." I say as I clip my pen to the notebook.

"I agree," Lockwood said. "but we won't know wither it's a Specter or not till we hear from her kids."

"Yeah, sounds like we'll hear a lot from them." I let my head fall onto the back of the couch.

"Well, some people are like that Lucy. At least they probably saw the Visitor; if it was only Ms. Anderson we would have nothing." Lockwood said while propping his leg up onto his other leg. If he wasn't careful he would have knocked the table over. It's a little too close for my liking.

I hear the sounds of plates clicking against each other from the kitchen and a few moments later Ms. Anderson was walking back in here with a tray of biscuits. She laid the silver tray down on the table and handed us small dessert plates.

We said our thanks and each took one of the warm chocolate chip cookies. The cookie rule still applies even when George not around.

As I went to take a bite of the biscuit, I heard the front door opening.

Ms. Anderson heard it too. "That'll be them," And with that left to go greet her children.

I set my cookie back down on the small plate and placed it on the coffee table. I see Lockwood do the same and grab his notebook which he had set on the table earlier. I pull mine back out as well and unclip the pen.

I heard the front door close and the faint sounds of voices. After a few moments of this, the faint sounds of high heels walking across the floor sounded and then Ms. Anderson reappeared with her two kid's trialing behind her.

I didn't expect them to look exactly alike.

Well, maybe not exactly alike. One was a boy and the other was a girl and their hair way different lengths, but other than that they looked identical.

They shared their mothers golden hair, but theirs shone with youth. The boys was cut close to the head but was long enough for him the spike up a little bit. The girls was long, reaching beneath her robust chest, and fell into lose ringlets. Both shared bright blue-green eyes and beautiful fascial features, with nice cheek bones and red lips. They were about medium height, both being taller than Ms. Anderson by five or six centimeters.

They also shared their mother's personality. They regarded us with cold eyes, and with a few looks up and down, they turned away to sit in the "love seat" to our right.

As they sat down, I heard Lockwood clear his throat and watch him put his leg back down onto the floor, still barley missing the coffee table.

I got ready to write down what they would say, but the sound of more feet made me look up. I then find myself looking at a new face as young girl walked into the room. She looked around the age of thirteen, with curly brown hair that went a little below her shoulders. She had a somewhat round face that came down to a nice rounded chin. Black rimmed glasses framed her face which made her deep brown eyes look a little small.

She looked out of place, being much shorter than the twins and not sharing the families golden hair. I watch as she walked over to the chair on my left and sat down, crossed her legs and rested a notebook on them. I watch her grab a pencil from the end table and open the notebook. The faint sounds of graphite scraping against paper filled the room.

It wasn't a notebook, but a sketch pad.

Lockwood cleared his throat once more. "Now then, since we're all here, why don't you give us your names and what you saw last night."

"I'm Maria-"

"And I'm Arthur."

If it wasn't for the fact that they were different genders, I don't think I would've known who had what name. The boy -Arthur- picked up right after his sister, without the slightest hint of hesitation. Why do twins do this?

I take a glance at the brown haired girl. She still sat hunched over her sketch pad; I don't think she even heard Lockwood. There was a short silence as we waited for her name. A disapproving snort came from Ms. Anderson which was followed by giggles from the twins.

Lockwood taped his fingers impatiently on the arm rest. "Maria, you were the one to first see the ghost. Can you tell us what you saw?" I ask.

I watch Maria eyes darken and look at the floor. "I woke up to extreme cold, like, it was _really_ cold. So I get up to go grab an extra blanket, right, and then I see it." She took a raspy breath. "It just floated there, right in the middle of my room! It seemed to tower over me, like, it was trying to fall on top of me!" Tears appeared in her eyes. "I couldn't move, all I could do was scream."

She broke out into sobs. She brought her hands up to cover her face and doubled over, her back racking with effort. Arthur patted her back while she cried, pulling Maria closer to him. Ms. Anderson didn't show any sign of getting up to comfort her daughter, only closing her eyes and resting her chin on her folded hands.

I almost felt bad for Maria. Being in Ghost-lock is a scary thing, coming from one who has been in it before. Being over whelmed by fear and not being able to do anything about it makes you feel helpless. You are at the mercy of the ghost, and once it touches you it's all over.

That's the main reason why we operatives work in teams. If someone gets caught in a Ghost-lock we can be there to stop the Visitor from touching them. Being Ghost-touched is not a pleasant feeling, or so I've heard.

After a few minutes, Maria sobs turned to sniffles and then disappeared altogether. She reached down to her purse, which lay on the floor beside the couch, and pulled out a small travel sized bag of tissues. Lockwood and I sat patiently while she dabs her eyes dry.

"I saw it too," Arthur said. "It was a man, that much I can tell you, with wide shoulders and a muscular frame. Once we entered my sister's room, it turned and looked at us and then, just disappeared." Maria nodded and tucked her now damp tissue back into her purse.

"No."

Lockwood and I were writing down the details of the Spector when the voice made us look up. The brown-haired girl was still staring intently at what she was sketching, but she was sitting up now. Her voice surprised me. It was light, unlike Marias' voice which is high a pitchy. But what really surprised me was her accent, it was American.

She looked up from her drawing to glance at us, making sure we were paying attention, then looked back down. "It was a young woman; probably around 24 give or take a few years. She had long light brown hair, lying straight against her back. Her slim frame made her small, making her seem more fragile then what she really was. And when she turned around," The girl gave a little sigh through her nose. "her face was pale with a splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Pale lips pecked out just above a blue scarf that was wrapped around her neck."

She stopped drawing and set her pencil down on the table and looked thoughtfully at her paper. "Something like this." And then she passed the sketch pad to me, I grabbed it while bumping my knees against the coffee table.

I felt Lockwood looking over my shoulder as I stared at the picture. It was beautiful! A woman was drawn standing in the center, head turned slightly to the right staring at something far away. Long hair was laid over her shoulder and was pushed back behind her ear. Her hand pulled at her scarf, like she was trying to keep out the cold. The scarf laid loosely around her neck and fell over her chest. The woman wore a white long-sleeved cashmere shirt that was a little too big, hanging at her mid thin and covering her hands. She wore skinny jeans that became hidden by knee high boots.

I was amazed by how detailed it was. Not only did it look like a living person, but it was all done in black and white. You could see how much she put into this, the freckles across the woman's cheeks to the small piercings in her ears. There was even a slight fog in front of her mouth, giving the effect that she was actually breathing.

"If you have such good Sight, why don't you join the night watch and do something useful." Ms. Anderson said. I flinch at the coldness in her voice, but the brown-haired girl merely shrugged and sat back into the chair.

"I already have enough cold and darkness in my life. I don't need anymore." The girl met Ms. Anderson's gaze with a pleasant smile, one that even reached her eyes.

I didn't like where this was going. With Ms. Anderson venomous glare and the girl's polite smile, I could tell that this probably would end in a yelling match. I decided to break the silence before anything happened, but Lockwood beat me to it.

"Well Ms. Anderson, I think that is all we need to know." He started to stand. "We will come back tonight to conduct our investigation, let's say around 10:30. Come on, Lucy, we'll show ourselves out." Together we gathered our things and headed to the front door, I could feel Ms. Anderson's eyes on my back as we left.

As we reached the front door, we heard footsteps coming our way. I turn to see the brown-haired girl walking towards us. She stopped in front of us and gave a small smile. "Hey, sorry about that back there. I just wanted to let you know it wasn't your fault. We're always like that." She laughed and brought her hand up to rub the back of her neck.

"No problem," Lockwood beamed at her and extended his hand. "I don't believe we caught your name earlier." His hand hung there a moment before she took it, shaking it lightly.

"Brianna."

Wow, I thought, she even has an American name.

"I'm Lockwood and this is Lucy Carlyle." My hand replaced Lockwood's and shook her hand. Brianna's hands were small with long fingers, the hands of an artist. I felt light calluses and when I brought my hand away there were smudges of graphite across my wrist. I noticed Lockwood rubbing the streaks on his hand away on his jacket.

Brianna took notice and started to rub her hands. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize. Can I get you anything to whip it off?" She asked as she turned to leave.

"No, no, it's fine really." I say as I shot a glare at Lockwood. "Your drawing was amazing."

"Really?" She smiled. "You can keep it then if you like, you know, too help with your investigation. But I need my sketch pad back."

I didn't realize till now that I still had hold of her sketch book. "Of course, I would love to have it!" I hand the sketch book back to her and watch as tears the picture out. Once satisfied with the outcome, she hands it back to me. "May I fold it?" I wasn't carrying any sort of bag with me. I only had my coat pocket.

"It's yours now. You can do whatever you want with it," Brianna replied, smiling. She made it seem like this was the first time anyone took a liking to her art.

Lockwood clapped his hands together. "Well, we best be going then. Tell Ms. Anderson thanks for giving us her time." He then opened the door and we both walked out into the windy weather. As we walked down the stairs, Brianna's voice sounded from the door way.

"Be careful when you come back tonight, I wouldn't underestimate this Visitor." She walked back inside and before she closed the door she looked back at us. "Not that I think it's a problem, considering your reputation." Brianna gave us a smile and shut the door.

We stood looking at the door for a while before Lockwood broke the silence. "I have a feeling this will be an interesting case." I nodded and we both turned to call another taxi.

_I couldn't agree more_, I thought.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! R/R please! I would love to know what you thought**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First of all, I should say sorry for taking so long in updating. Please forgive me! I'm still in school so I don't get that much free time as I wish, but when summer comes I'll be posting at a much faster rate, hopefully.**

**A BIG thanks to those who read and commented on this, it really meant a lot to me to know that people like what I write. I was basically hugging the computer when I saw my first comment. So thank you so much! **

**Chapter 2 **

**Lucy's point of view**

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"I couldn't find anything! Nothing, nada," George flung his papers onto kitchen table and dramatically threw his hands into the air. I watch as some of the sheets slip out of one of the folders and fall to the floor, scattering all over the place.

"You mean the all-knowing George couldn't find a single thing," I said in a mocking tone. He had been kneeling to pick up the papers, now he turned his glare to me. George stood with the newly gathered papers and slapped them onto the table beside the others.

"Well then, did you find anything of interest Lucy?" He said as he pushed his glasses up even more, more out of aggravation than the fact that they slipped.

"Actually we did. We-"

"Hush now, both of you." Lockwood has been sitting in the chair at the end of the table, hands folded neatly under his chin. "Do you two always have to bicker every time you see each other?"

Lockwood and I had been home for about twenty minutes before George came barging in the front door, faced flushed with the amount of exercise he had coming back home. Claimed he was too angry for a cab. Of course I put in my thoughts about his walk home.

"It's his fault!"

"It's her fault!"

We said in unison. Which in the end, made us give each other side-glares. I could hear Lockwood give a slight chuckle. Whether it was the fact we were acting like children or that he found it amusing that we couldn't stop fighting.

"No matter, we still have a full day to put what we know together." Lockwood said as he pulled out his note pad and laid it on the table. "George, why don't you run through what you do know, please."

With a sigh, George pulled out a chair and sat down, tapping his pen against the table. It was only till I was in this house that I ever found the tapping of a pen annoying. He would do it endlessly when he was conducting experiments, slowly driving me insane. I guess George can make anything annoying.

"Well, there is no history on the house for it was only built three years ago. No deaths." George began to tap the pen more ferociously. "The history on the family doesn't have anything either. Mrs. Eliz-"

"Ms." Both me and Lockwood interrupted.

George gave us a pointed look and shook his head. "Okay, _Ms._ Elizabeth Claden grew up in a poor family until she married Johnathon Anderson, who was heir to a large shipping business. They lived in Sussex until he died of lung cancer four years ago. With the money she inherited, the now widowed Ms. Anderson and her two kids –twins if I remember correctly- moved to London into the new house they built on 21st King Street." With that, George leaned back against the chair and ceased his pen tapping.

I stop and think for moment. "Wait, did you say _two_ kids?"

"That's what the records say," George replied, massaging his brow.

I look at Lockwood and he raised an eyebrow. "It didn't mention and third child. Perhaps adopted with American linage?" Lockwood asked as he leaned his elbows onto the table.

"Huh?" George looked up at Lockwood before looking away, lost in thought. "I remember seeing a picture that was taken a few years ago with another person in it, a young girl. I looked into it but I couldn't find any documents tying her to the family."

Okay, so that confused me.

"Do you have the picture?" I ask.

George sifted through his files till he pulled out a small photo. He passed it over to Lockwood and I to look at it. It was in color and it looked like it was taken on steps in front of their house on Kings Street. The twins were there in the middle of the steps, Arthur in a regular black suit and Maria in a white strap-less dress. Ms. Anderson stood to their right and wore a black pant suit, her expression cold as always.

But off to the left side, leaning up against the front of the house was none other than Brianna. She stood there in jeans and a sweat jacket, looking like she rather be anywhere than there.

I guess I already knew she wasn't Ms. Anderson's daughter, from her hair to her American accent, but I just figured that she was adopted. But aren't there documents and signed forms for adoption?

"Well that's rather odd," Lockwood studied the picture a little more then placed it back onto the table and pushed it towards George.

"What is?" George asked as he took the photo back.

"There would be papers for adoption right?" I say looking at Lockwood, completely ignoring George. "Could she be a friend?"

"Who? The girl in the photo?" George asked.

"Unlikely, considering the way the twins acted towards her," Lockwood replied, looking deep in thought.

"Well, what else could she be?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

"Who are you guys talking about?" George taps his fingers impatiently on the table.

Lockwood sighed. "I don't really know. If she is indeed from America then that would rule out any blood relation. I guess it's possible-"

"Will you please let me in on your conversion!" George interrupted, his face turning red like a tomato. His finger tapping increasing with his agravation.

Giving a huff, I let my head drop off the back of the chair. "If you haven't noticed, we're talking about Brianna."

I guess George gave a confused look to Lockwood for he explained. "The girl in the photo, we met her today at the Anderson's house hold."

"And? What does that mean?" George asked.

I answered before Lockwood could. "It means that this family is a little more complicated than we thought," I let the chair rest only on its back legs, my feet pushing the front legs of the ground.

There was a brief silence as we all sat there, not really knowing what else to say. I let my chair fall back down to the ground and lean forward again. "You know, why don't we just ask her when we go back tonight."

"I suppose that will clear everything up, good thinking Luce," Lockwood said and clapped his hands together. "Well, shall we go get ready for tonight?"

Moving to get up, George murmured mockingly: "Good thinking Luce, no one would've ever thought of that,"

I started to get up too. "Ha, you're just jealous I thought of it first."

"Like I could ever be jealous of you."

"Come on, you know I-"

"Please save the bickering for later. I do not want to think about what would happen if we got there late," Lockwood said as he walked past us and out of the kitchen. I give George one final glare and walk out as well, George's heavy footsteps behind me.

Leaving George behind, I walk upstairs and into my room. Closing the door behind me I lean against it. This whole thing is getting very confusing. The whole thing with Brianna is throwing me for a loop. I know that this really has nothing to do with her, but it's one of those things were you want to know more. I don't know why, but it intrigues me. Though, there's something nagging me in the back of my mind.

Sighing, I walk over to my bed and grab the duffel bag underneath it and heft it over my shoulder. Opening my door, I walk out and back downstairs to help Lockwood and George pack.

For some reason, I have a bad feeling about this one.

**A/N: Thanks again to all those who read the first chapter, you guys gave me the motivation to finish up this chapter. Please R&amp;R!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm a horrible person… I'm so sorry for taking this long to update! I didn't want to be one of those people but I guess I am. UGH! **

**It was mainly writer's block but I wrote a longer chapter this time to hopefully make up for it.**

**But anyway, thank you to all those who put up with the long wait and who enjoy my fic. **

I heard George crack his neck and watch him move his stiff arms around in circles, working his shoulders. "That was one of the worst cab rides I've ever had." I heard a pop as he twist's from side to side.

"Well sorry, I wasn't expecting him to be driving the smallest car in the world," I say picking up one of the duffel bags and starting towards the house. Yes, it was quite a small cab. And it seemed even smaller with me, George, _and_ Lockwood all squished up in the backseat.

"I'll blame you, Lucy, if my muscles lock up on me tonight." George said behind me as he and Lockwood picked up the other bags and followed me.

"What? Why me, it's the cab's fault!" I yell and turn to face George.

"You always call the bad cabs," George explained as he cleaned his glasses on his shirt.

"It's true, Luce." I turn my glare to Lockwood at the comment, but before I could say anything back he knocked on the front door.

It opened a few seconds later with Ms. Anderson's cold stare to greet us. "You're late," And with that went back inside.

"Well, I can see why you two weren't in a hurry," George said looking at the open door.

Lockwood and I share a glance before we walk inside with George in tow. We were greeted by the smell of chocolate chip cookies with the faint sounds of voices. Following the same route the first time we were here, I lead everyone through the front hallway to the living room were we saw Maria whining about something to Ms. Anderson.

"But Mom," She whined. "what if something happens to them?"

Ms. Anderson gave a sigh. "Nothing will happen to them and you're not carrying anymore luggage. Now go grab your bag." Popping out the handle for her rolling suitcase, Ms. Anderson started towards us.

"But-" Maria stopped talking when she saw her mother turn to face her.

"Did you not hear me?" I could feel the ice prick at my skin, even if it wasn't directed at me. Maria shook her head. "Good. Now pick up your stuff. Arthur! Hurry up now!" Ms. Anderson yelled as Maria grabbed her things.

I heard some clanks and clonks coming from above then a muffled yell back, "I'm comin'!" After a few moments, Arthur came out of the hallway to our right carrying a giant duffle bag. "Let's go."

Ms. Anderson's eye's glanced at the bag but she didn't say anything. Maria on the other hand went off. "How come he gets to carry his sports gear? That not fair!"

"Because I'm the favorite, that's why." Arthur had a smirk plastered on his face.

"But my makeup is more-" Maria was yet again cut off by Ms. Anderson.

"Hush now, both of you!" She turned around to face the twins. "I will no longer tolerate this kind of behavior. Now both of you go to the car." I guess they knew not to push her anymore for they nodded and rushed past us. The sound of the front door slamming shut told me that Maria probably wasn't happy with the arrangement.

Ms. Anderson started walking towards us again and stopped in front of Lockwood. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Yes ma'am," Lockwood beamed. "I assure you we have it all under control."

Ms. Anderson huffed. "You better. I don't want to come home to ashes."

I felt George's gaze on me and I turn to face him and give him a silent _shut it_. He replies with a glare. I roll my eyes and look back at Ms. Anderson and Lockwood.

It seems like Lockwood was thinking the same thing. "Don't worry, we are professionals," He gives me a sideways glance.

Well, I guess its team up on Lucy day.

Ms. Anderson snorts and mummers something that sounded like 'yeah right'. She looks back at us and hands Lockwood the keys. "All bedrooms are upstairs, lock up when you're done."

Lockwood takes the keys and smiles, but before he could reply footsteps sounded from the stairwell again. We turn and watch as Brianna walks in carrying a brown shoulder bag. "Hey, did you want me to…" She trails off when she sees us, pausing in a half-step.

Ms. Anderson regarded Brianna coldly. "You're still here? I thought I told you to go to the car,"

"Well, I had to go grab my things first of all," Brianna said as she moves next to Ms. Anderson. "And secondly, I wanted to wish the agents good luck."

Rolling her eyes, Ms. Anderson grabbed the handle of her suit case and started to the door. "You better be out in five minutes or I'm leaving without you." With that, she walked past us and to the front door. None of us said anything till we heard the quiet click of the door closing.

"I probably should take that to heart." Brianna laughed as if thinking about a pleasant memory. "Well anyways, good luck to you guys."

"We'll do our best, don't you worry," Lockwood said smiling. "You'll be ghost free in no time."

Brianna paused before replying. "What happens to them? The ghosts I mean. What happens when you take the source?"

I was surprised. Never have I really thought about it. Considering the fact that I go out and secure the source I should have some sort of explanation. That they go to a better place or just stay locked up in salt an iron for the rest of eternity. Maybe they just disappear altogether, never being heard of or seen again. Or maybe they were experimented on, like what George does to the ghost in the jar.

I don't know, I was stumped. It seemed George and Lockwood we're also surprised by the question. George's mouth was open like he was interrupted mid-sentence. Lockwood looked like he was thinking too hard, with his hands twisted together and eyes slanted with focus.

Brianna seemed to notice she threw us a curve ball. "If you don't know that's okay! I didn't mean to confuse you or anything!" She laughed nervously and stumbled on her words. "I should, um, go. Don't want Elizabeth to leave without me."

Lockwood seemed to recover the fastest and smiled at Brianna as she started to exit the room. "Of course, don't want to keep her waiting."

Smiling back, Brianna took her leave but at the last second turned around. "One more thing," She walked over to me and handed a key to me, a nicely polished sliver one. "There's a locked room upstairs you guys might want to check out." She started to leave again but looked at us one more time, a finger pressed to her lips. "If you could keep this between us that would be great." With that, she left.

"Is it just me, or does it seem like Brianna doesn't like Ms. Anderson?" George questioned after a moment of silence.

I roll my eyes and sarcastically reply. "No George, they get on like the best of pals."

Before George could retort, Lockwood cut in. "Why don't we set up, it's nearly eleven O'clock." He then grabbed his bag and walked into the kitchen. George followed soon after.

Sighing, I pick up my duffle bag and follow them. The kitchen was a nice size, big enough to hold roughly seven people at once. There was a polished wraparound counter made of granite which also countered as a table. Two stools were tucked under the ledge and off to the side was a dining table, equipped with four wooden chairs. Behind the table on the wall was a glass door leading to the backyard.

George was leaning on the counter eating a biscuit. Lockwood was at the table going through the duffle bag. I look beside George to see a full plate of biscuits sitting on the counter. Setting my bag down, I walk over to them and see a note tucked under the plate.

Flipping it open, I read the neatly printed hand writing.

_To Lockwood and Company,_

_I made these just in case you guys got hungry; I figured chocolate chip was the best option._

_Good luck!_

_Brianna C._

I smile after I finish reading. How did such a sweet girl end up in a house like this? It's obvious she isn't a part of the Anderson family line, and this note proves it. Her last name starts with a 'C'. This doesn't rule out cousin but it still shows she isn't part of this family.

"What do you have there, Lucy?" I look up from the note and look over my shoulder at Lockwood. I turn to face him, handing him the note.

"Just a note Brianna left. She made the cookies for us if we got hungry," I pick up one and take a bite. They were crunchy on the outside yet chewy on the inside, plus they were still warm.

"Wasn't that nice of her," Lockwood took one as well, humming in delight at the taste. "I'll thank her in the morning."

I nod and finish up eating before wiping my hands on my skirt. I walk over to one of the bags and open it and start setting the items on the table; sliver chains, salt-bombs, and Greek Fire. Even though the flares have caused problems in the past, it's better to have one or two just in case things get too out of hand. Better to be prepared than sorry.

I start placing items on my belt and when I grab the Greek Fire Lockwood's hand comes out of nowhere and takes it from me. "I think I keep a hold of this," He flashes me a smile and tucks it into his belt.

"A girl sets fire to a house once and it's held against her for the rest of her life," I mumble and finish wrapping the chain around my waist.

"In our defense Lucy, you always result to violence." George put in as he finished up as well and came to the table.

I glare at him. "Those are always in life or death situations." George huffs and grabs his things from the table. I sigh and grab my torch out of the pile and walk to the glass door. "I'm going to shut off the power." I slide the door back and walk outside.

It was a normal yard, nice cut grass and a big Elm tree standing in the corner with a swing hanging off one of its branches. The whole yard was fenced in. Tall white fence posts reached upwards, standing a little taller than me. Everything was bathed in a white glow from the moon. It was almost peaceful out here.

I walk down the brick steps onto the grass and flick on my torch, flashing the beam of light around the side of the house. The reflection of the metal box caught my eye and I walk over to it. Pulling it open, I see all the circuits for the electricity flowing through the house. One by one, I flick each switch to the opposite side. I reach the last one and watch as the kitchen lights go out.

Closing the box, I turn around and head back to the door. Then I hear it. A soft whisper, almost too quiet to hear. It sounded distant. Stopping, I close my eyes and focus on listening to try to pin point where the voice is coming from. I close out all the other sounds of the night, the night calls of the birds and the slight buzz of insect wings.

…_Leave… _

My eyes snap open and my whole body stiffens. I felt eyes burning through my back, making my skin crawl. Slowly, I turn around and freeze.

There, sitting on the tree swing was a young woman. Looking me dead in the eye. I felt the anger, the _hatred_, she was feeling. The intensity of her gaze was enough to make my knees shake. My breath came out in strangled gasps. My throat burned. I couldn't breathe. It hurt. My eyes burned with tears.

I wasn't supposed to be here. _She_ didn't want me here.

_Thump_.

The sound startles me and I blink several times. I look back at the swing to find it empty, swaying softly as if someone just stood up from it.

I cough and take deep breaths, letting my lungs have the air they were craving. I look down to see my torch lying on the ground. I didn't even feel it leave my grasp. Quickly, I pick it up and walk back up to the glass door. My hands shook as they grabbed the handle and slide it open. I step inside and shut the door right behind me, leaning my back against it.

I don't normally get freaked out like that, but the emotions were so strong. The way her eyes bore into mine, how it felt like her hands were around my throat, slowly cutting off my air.

"Lucy? Are you okay?" A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped. I turn my head to see Lockwood looking at me with worried eyes.

"You're not getting scared now, are you?" George sounded somewhere behind Lockwood, his voice thick with mockery.

I wanted to snap something back but only more coughing came out. After my coughing fit, a burning sensation set in my throat. Slowly removing my back from the door, I head towards the sink. Lockwood's footsteps sounded behind me as I walked but I paid no attention them. I open up several cabinets till I finally find a cup. Filling it up to the rim, I take a long drink.

The cool water slid down my throat, making the burning fade and replenishing the moisture. I set the cup in the sink and turn around, relaxing against the counter. Lockwood met my gaze and I got the meaning. He wanted to know what happened.

I take a deep breath through my nose. "I saw her. Outside."

"I never took you as one to get scared from a ghost," George took another cookie from the plate.

"Shut it, I didn't just see her." I glare at George before turning back to Lockwood. "I felt the energy, her emotions. One of the strongest I've ever felt, all the anger and hatred," Pausing, I clear my throat. "She made it clear that she doesn't want us here." Everything shook; my breath, my knees, my hands, everything. My hands griped tighter on the counter, knuckles white with effort.

Before I knew it, I was in an embrace. Lockwood's embrace. His arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest. "Luce, it's okay," I was hesitant, but soon hugged him back. My shaking hands knotting themselves in his coat. If you ask me if I cried I would deny it, saying I was just shooken up. But it would be a lie. I felt the cold on my cheeks. I tasted the salt in my mouth.

If Lockwood noticed, he didn't say anything. I was grateful for that.

After my cheeks dried, I released my hold on his coat and stepped back out of his arms. Lockwood gave me his signature grin and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Are you two love-birds done?"

George had finished off half the plate and was currently lounging against the dinner table. I glare at him but didn't have the energy to say anything back. My eyes were all I needed. "Quite, why don't we start looking for the source?"

Lockwood rubbed his hands together. "Yes, it's about time. George, you can check down here. Lucy and I can check the upstairs." George nodded and walked down a darkened corridor. I close my eyes and feel the handle of my rapier. The cool metal under my fingers felt comforting, almost like when you get home and you curl up in the warm blankets of your bed.

Opening my eyes, I see Lockwood waiting for me in the doorway; torch in hand. I walk over and we head out and towards the stairwell. The stairs didn't make a sound as we walked up them, only the clicking of our shoes against the wood. "Hear anything yet, Lucy?" I take a little pause to just listen.

Shaking my head, I turn to look at Lockwood. "Nothing yet." He nods and we continue walking. At the top was a wraparound banister, leading behind us. There was a corridor to my left and a landing on my right. A bathroom was standing right in front of us.

Lockwood walked onto the landing, looking at the two doors. "I'll check here, let me know when you find the locked door." He sends me his signature grin and opens the first door, leaving me alone in the hallway.

I flick on my own torch and head down the other corridor. Two doorways were on my left and another one on the right at the very end. A side table stood at the end of the hallway in front of a window whose blinds were closed. I walk up to the first door on my left and open it, flashing my torch inside.

It was a tidy room, everything had a place and nothing was on the floor besides a plush cream rug. A king sized bed sat in the middle, its headrest against the wall. There was a light brown chest at the foot of the bed and a dresser parallel to it on pressed against the other wall. And what appears to be a closest to the right on the bed. This is probably Ms. Andersons room.

I walk into the room and over to the chest, lifting the top up. The inside was filled with old toys, pictures, and clothing. I spotted a wedding dress with a suit jacket and some baby clothing. It was a hope chest. My mother had one in our house, filled to the brim with our old clothing and other little things.

Closing the chest, I stand up and look at the dresser. Nice jewelry lay in neat piles across the top. At the very back was a picture in a golden frame, a necklace with a small diamond ring was draped over one of the corners. In the picture was a man dressed in a nice suit standing in the middle of a pier, smiling brightly at the camera. His fair hair was glittering in the sun and his blue eyes sparkling.

I could only assume that this was Jonathon Anderson.

"Lucy, are all teenage girls rooms messy like this?" Lockwood's voice broke my eye contact with the picture.

With a slight shake of my head, I walk of the room and look to see Lockwood inside Maria's room, which was cluttered beyond belief. Clothes were dropped on the floor and across the bed and makeup was everywhere. "No, we're not all like that."

"Don't you have a pile of clothes in the corner of your room?"

I shoot him a glare. "Don't tell me your room is spotless." Lockwood grins and goes back to looking around. Sighing, I walk down the hallway and try the next door on the left. It opens to show a room much smaller than the others, only being able to hold two to three people at a time. A twin sized bed sat to my right, its side pressed closely to the wall. A desk was close to it, acting as a somewhat nightstand. There was a window dead in front of me and a closet to the left of that.

I step into the room and walk over to the desk. Papers were scattered all over the top along with sketch books. This must be Brianna's room. I look at the pages and see several graphite drawings. Some were of people, others were of animals, and some were of nature. Each one beautiful. I could tell she put effort into every stroke, every shadow. A signature was at the bottom right of each picture, her name in neat cursive with the first letter of her last name overlapping it.

I grab the nearest sketch book and flip it open, skimming through the pages. It was nearly filled up, each page holding a new drawing. The backs of some pages held sketches or shadowing techniques, seeing how hard to press the pencil down to get a certain effect.

As I was about to close the pad, one picture caught my eye. I open it more and turn it the book side ways to get a better look at it. My eyes widen at the sight. A realistic picture of Lockwood and I from the chest up was drawn in the center of the page. Lockwood wore his signature grin, his unruly hair falling across his forehead. His coat collar was up and his jacket was open to show the dark shirt underneath. The look in his eyes held pure mischief and excitement.

I on the other hand, had a slight smile playing on my lips. My messy hair fell into my eyes and over my ears. The jacket I wore was buttoned up, coming up to my neck. My eyes shone with determination and something deeper I couldn't quite tell.

Not only was this picture of us, but held color. Brown strokes were in Lockwood's hair and eyes, as a darker brown in mine. The light brown of Lockwood's coat combated with the dark blue in mine. It was simple stunning. She had only met us once but was able to create a picture that could almost be a photo.

I close the sketch pad and lay it down with the others. Looking around the room I see a pile of books at the foot of the bed. Skimming the titles, I could tell most were mystery and science fiction. But one stood out from the rest.

It was much thinner but it looked the oldest, but it seemed in excellent condition. The cover was a burnt sienna, making the turquoise title stand out much more. _Orphan _read across the cover, _A Raccoon_ in smaller print underneath it.

I reach down and pick it up. As I run my hand over the cover I was instantly pulled into a wave of emotions; longing, fear, hopelessness. Crying filled my ears, loud and devastating. The pain was overwhelming. It was suffocating.

I jerk my hand back, taking a deep breath and letting the ringing in my ears die down. Hesitantly, I reach down again and touch the cover. When nothing happened, I let my finger run along the cover. I felt how it had been worn by many hands, the texture not smooth but not rough either. I pick it up and cradle it in my hands. Opening the cover, there was a note inside. The ink had spread across the page, almost like someone had rubbed their hand across it too many times.

_To my little own little Raccoon, may you read this book in those sleepless nights and know that you're never alone. Mom._

This book was a gift from Brianna's mother. I close the cover and place it back beside the pile of other books. This raises more questions; hopefully I can ask her about her past.

I walk out of the room and back into the hallway. Lockwood had left Maria's room and had entered what looks like Arthur's room. "Found anything?"

"Do pornographic magazines count as anything?" Lockwood sticks his head out of the doorway. "If so, then I found a lot of those."

I push the thought of those out my head. "Let's not count those as something worth our time."

Lockwood shrugged. "Did you find anything worth out time?"

I nod. "There's this book, in Brianna's room. There's a strong attachment to it. Lots of pain, almost like the owner of the book had the thing the loved most destroyed right in front of them," The ringing in my ears returned and I shake my head to get rid of it.

Lockwood nods. "Show it to me later."

I nod and turn to walk down to the last door. This must be the locked door. I test the handle and, sure enough, it was locked. "Lockwood, this is it."

"I'll be there shortly, give me a little while longer."

"You better not be looking at those magazines," I fish the key out of my jacket pocket and unlock the door. Placing the key back in my pocket I walk into the darkened room, hearing a muffled Lockwood assuring me he isn't reading the magazine.

I flash my light inside and see that the room is filled with junk; old dressers, some broken mirrors, several different types of chairs. It was basically a room version of an attic. Everything was coated in a layer of dust and some of the things looked like they haven't seen sunlight in more than a decade. I take some more steps into the room, avoiding this and that.

I reach one of the dressers. It had a mirror with a long diagonal crack in it that reached from the bottom right to the top left. My image was distorted, making the top half of my head slightly off than the rest. Most of the knobs were missing and the wood was cracked with age. But what caught my eye was what was resting on top of it.

A ship in a glass bottle was cradled in a wooden pestle. It stretched a little longer than my hand and stood nearly six centimeters tall. A small pirate like ship sat inside. White sails were open, and an anchor was dangling from the side. There was a lot of detail, from the paint job to the small ropes hanging from the mast.

I place my torch on top of the dresser and pick up the bottle. I bring it closer to my face so for a better look. When I get it close enough, I see a name written on the side of the side. _The Lost Ann Marie_.

_Slam!_

The sound of the door slamming startles me into looking up. And in the mirror I see her. Standing right behind me.

All I could do was stare as the bottle fell from my grasp and shattered against the floor.

**A/N: Yes, I'm leaving it here. Sue me.**

**Sienna is like a brown/orange color. And **_**Orphan A Raccoon**_** is an actual book, by Era Zistel. It was my childhood book and I thought it fit the bill for the book I used. **


End file.
